


what beautiful battlefields you are

by daisuga



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: I have no idea what I was doing the whole time :'), M/M, but here it is yeshaahsyeha iwaoi week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 11:57:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2268822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisuga/pseuds/daisuga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because the stars spoke and they will always, always find a way to go back home--they will always end up finding each other. Even if it takes more than a hundred years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what beautiful battlefields you are

 

I feel like a part of my soul has loved you since the beginning of everything.   
Maybe we’re from the same star.

**Emery Allen**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[ Ashikaga, Tochigi; _Shimotsuke Province_  ]

**1870**

 

It was a windy day, the sky blue and glaring, trails of clouds stretching over. Iwaizumi pulled on his uniform--his kepi hat held closely, as he waited. The atmosphere felt light, everything quiet; Iwaizumi knew better, though, and shifted in his place. It's the era where Japan is really starting to improve, they said, what with all the modernization and western clothing. Even the military uniform he's wearing right now is foreign--too foreign for his tastes, he decided. He grew up seeing hakamas and swords, but now everything seems to be guns and uniforms with buttons and belts. 

Worse, military is mandatory.

He felt his heart grow weary, again, at the thought of living. The fact that he's of the lowest class didn't help, and he can't bring himself to avoid service the way the other peasants did, all around him.  _Blood tax_. Even in his mind, it's bitter and cold; people mutilating and killing themselves, even going as far as organizing local uprisings. The samurais refused, as well, both because they'll be emerged in the western style military, and because they'll be standing with the likes of Iwaizumi. The lowly peasant class.

A loud exclamation of "Hajime!" pulled him out of his reverie, and he turned to see someone familiar running up to him. Wide smile and eyes bright, he can pick up Oikawa Tooru's face from any crowd, any day.

A he get closer, Oikawa get to see his clothing more properly, and the smile dropped off of his face, slowly.

"Hajime?"

"Yeah," He straightened up his posture, reminded of why he's here. Silence took over them and the wind swayed. He briefly took in the view--cherry blossoms in summer, Oikawa close and real, clad in a neat kariginu. He looked nice. As always, never failing to his title as the "Beautiful Shinto priest of Ashikaga". A Kannushi, not expected to take part in the military.

Iwaizumi felt relief spread throughout him with that thought.

Oikawa stiffened at the ensemble Iwaizumi is wearing, but decided not to comment anything about it. There's nothing he can do. This is beyond his power, and he can't bear any further burden on Iwaizumi and himself with his selfishness. 

For once, he kept it in himself.

But.

"Just promise me one thing, Hajime," He started, looking far into the sky. Cherry blossoms are falling, and his lover made a sound of acknowledgment.

"Promise me that you'll come back alive. I'll wait," He swallowed, voice trembling. "you know. Musashi Province isn't that far. You can write letters, can't you? And I doubt--I hope--that there would be any wars soon. Hajime, can you promise that?"

He turned his watery gaze to him, and Iwaizumi quirked up a smile. Always a crybaby, ever since they were children. He moved and held Oikawa's cheeks, leaning to put a kiss on his forehead. Oikawa closed his eyes, savoring this moment.

"I can't promise that, but I can try. I will. For you."

Oikawa exhaled--what Iwaizumi said was not enough to calm his heart, not enough to pacify his mind, but for now, he'll accept it--for now, he'll stand by it. 

He took out a pouch, and Iwaizumi moved back, with curious eyes. 

"Here," he extended his hands to Iwaizumi, clutching a talisman. "for goodluck. Everyday, I'll pray for you, though, never forget that."

"Hm," Iwaizumi hid a smile, looking at the talisman. He wore it around his neck. A reminder that he has something to come home to. "Thanks."

"And here," Oikawa declared, pulling out something that looks like a seed, holding it up. "to honor your promise."

 

"We'll plant a tree?"

"Yes. A reminder."

* * *

 

 

**March, 1877**

 

A soldier, obviously from the National Army, still looking like they came home from the battle, knocked on Oikawa's house.

He handed something to Oikawa, and said something that sounds like _"I'm sorry."_

The Battle of Tabaruzaka, while far, was a battle well-known to him. Iwaizumi mentioned it in his last letter, and Oikawa's heart dropped, veins cold. He felt something in him, heavy and unwanted, and he cried, crouching down, hands clutching the item, forehead against it.

The night was freezing.

The bloodied talisman in his hands didn't change a thing.

 

* * *

 

 

Legend said that the Wisteria Tree in the Ashikaga Flower Park, dated 144 years old, approximately by 1970, was planted by a famed shinto priest for his lover that went away. This, however, is only a fact by ear. No one is sure if this was real--however, everyone cared for the wisteria nonetheless, and it grew.

 

No one knew if the lover came back.

 

* * *

 

 

[ _Southampton, England_ ]

**1912**

 

He groaned, feeling the weight on him. The sun shone through the window. The bed was soft and fluffy under him, and he could feel Oikawa's breathe on his cheeks.

"Wake up, Iwa-chan! You hafta leave today!"

The bed is jumping now, and he  groaned louder, eyes bleary as he yawned, hiding beneath the covers. It immediately got torn off of him, and then—jesus—something started licking his cheek, and he’s sure as hell that it’s not his lover, and he tried to swat it away but it won’t stop—

"Okay, okay, shit, fucking hell, I’m up—-control your shitty cat—" he sat up, raising his hands, and true to name, the Great Oikawa pouted, hiding a grin due to his victory.

"He’s not shitty. He’s good looking."

"No."

A laugh bubbled out from his other half’s lips, and he leaned forward to kiss him after he let the cat go. 

"Get ready, Kunimi and I will walk you to the dock."

"I don’t wanna. And why are you gonna bring the cat along?"

"Eeeh, Iwa-chan, come on," Oikawa stretched, picking on his shirt that got tousled during his extravagant waking up. Iwaizumi followed his suit, leaning his head on his lover's warm back, uncharacteristically touchy feely. He can't help it--he _is_ leaving, after all,  and New York is such a far away place.  "and Kunimi loves you, you know!"

"I don’t wanna leave you," came the reason, accompanied by a yawn and a huge embrace. "I wanna stay here with you. Why'd I have to go?"

"It’ll just be for a little while! We’ll come after you settle down. Maybe after you get a job.”

No reply. Oikawa pinched his cheeks.

"Hey."

"Hi," came a soft voice; Iwaizumi sighed and he stayed quiet before pulling away. "Fine. But drop the cat."

The other started laughing, then bounced away, cheering. Iwaizumi can’t help but smile at the sight of Oikawa, thinking, _I'll really miss him_. He watched him pick up the cat and swing it around while chanting.

"Titanic! The Great Titanic!"

 

* * *

 

 

Oikawa crumpled the paper, and cried, head dropping into his hands. There's a dull pain in his chest, despite his heaving and gasping for breathe. It feels so familiar, losing Iwaizumi, and he wanted it to stop, wanted the pain to stop spreading through his body.

It's been two days.

There has been no calls.

 

 

**"OVER FIFTEEN HUNDRED SANK TO DEATH WITH GIANT WHITE STAR STREAMER TITANIC:"**

 

* * *

 

 

[ _Shanghai, China_ ] _  
_

**2005**

 

 

He’s running late—god, his boss will kill him, probably—and he basically walked through the crows, bag tightly clutched, face contorted into a scowl. Iwaizumi's glasses felt foggy and fragile, but he didn’t stop for it. He didn’t really stop for anything, focused on getting to his building.

That is, until the wind slapped an indigo hankerchief on his face.

"—-?" he skidded into a halt, peeling off the offensive material from his face, inspecting it.

"Ah, excuse me!"

He turned to look at the source of the voice, and found himself staring into a familiar face. He felt something warm and he can’t tear his eyes off of this person in front of him—he’s attractive, yes, but there's something about those eyes and that brown hair that drew him in and this is embarrassing. 

He has a nice smile, though he got a feeling that it's not genuine.

"Is this yours?" he managed to stutter out, handing over the cloth. The other reached for it, smiling gratefully, their hands touching slightly, and he felt as if the spots were scalded.

"Ah, no," he grinned. "my girlfriend’s."

 

* * *

 

 

[ _Chiba Prefecture, Japan_ ]

**1990**

 

They laid on the beach, feet licked by the soft waves  the ocean made before returning to where it came from.

Oikawa gazed up at the clouds. On the corner of his eyes, he could see the other boy lightly sleeping.

He swallowed a lump in his throat. 

"Hey," he called out, and felt a hand hold unto him, loosely.

A hum of acknowledgement.

"Do you know that soulmates are reincarnated as twins when they die?"

There’s a long stretch of silence before he felt a squeeze.

"Go to sleep, brother."

He stayed awake wondering why he felt disappointed with Iwaizumi's answer.

 

* * *

 

[ ????  _, J?pa?_  ]

(a lost time line)

**XXXX**

 

He’s always hard to miss, but Oikawa seems to be the only one that notices him.

At least, to the extent that he does.

He has always been the kind that runs around after dismissal, training, going out with friends and stuff. But one rainy day, he rejected a karaoke invite with a smile, concerned about the rain.

He huffed, the cold getting into him, as he readjusted his shoe. He put on his jacket, and stepped out into the front of the school.

He saw him. 

 

 

> (It’s kind of hard not to, with that blue umbrella in his hand.)

It’s what made Oikawa recognize him—everywhere, books in hand and eyes always serious and straightforward.  He might say that he's attracted, but he's sure that’s shamefully an understatement. He liked him, despite not being able to talk to him at all. He had always been surrounded with his loud friends and him with his _Intellect Squad_   (as his friends put it) and he honestly think that the difference between the two of them is too great.

And now he don’t know how it happened, but there he is and here he is and he fidgeted in his jacket, looking out, cold to the bones.

He let out a low whistle and looked at him, flushed with a grin on his face. He looked back, confused, hands still on the umbrella.

"You better go now and take care, before it gets worse."

And with that, Oikawa dashed into the rain, red-faced.

 

 

 

The next time it rained, he didn’t bother looking for her, walking out immediately. But the rain got harder and as much as he doesn't give a damn at all about his grades or health, it’ll be a pain to dry everything off. So he sought shelter into a convenience store, purchasing a cigarette pack, hiding it as he eat a bar of chocolates.

That’s when he saw it.

It wasn’t even in his line of vision, but he saw it, comforting and bright and _so blue_ , familiar and memorized, but the person underneath it wasn’t the the dark-haired boy that he's been wanting to see—the boy that he's been thinking about for days—but it’s—

Well.

It’s a guy, one whose year is higher than you by two, twirling it, and he shifted it and he saw him, and he was laughing and smiling in all of his glory and Oikawa felt sick and bitter and—

He saw you, eyes wide, stopping mid-sentence. Oikawa didn’t smile. He didn’t wave. He shuffled into the smoking area, scoffed, and lit up cigarette.

 

 

 

The next day, it wasn’t raining as hard as it was before, but it’s still drizzling. He buried his face deeper into his windbreaker—he left his jacket in his locker, and he'll have to make-do.

Then he saw it again, dammit, and it wasn’t him underneath it again.

It was the guy, again.

But with a girl, and hey, that one looks like—

"That’s my sister," A voice said beside him, steady, flowing, but still gruff and familiar. "You misunderstood our relationship from yesterday."

"Why aren’t you holding that blue umbrella today?"

"She’s picking him up today," he said, looking down. "there’s no use bringing it."

And then it all made sense, and Oikawa was a little deflated, but he liked him, christ, he liked him and he pulled out his own. clear umbrella, the one that he's always been saving, but never  used, because it’s for him and he’s been ignoring his feelings just like how _he_ was ignoring him.

He opened it and pulled it over his head. He looked at Oikawa, flabbergasted.

"Would you like to go home with me under this umbrella, then?"

 

* * *

 

  
[ _Berlin, Germany_ ]

**1964**

 

"When will we be able to go to the other side?"

"I don't know," His mother told him, turning the page of the book she's reading. 

"There's someone that I want to be friends with," he murmured, and his mom made some noise that signified that she's listening. "I see him through my window, he's at the other side. He has this black hair, but he always looks like he's tired."

"Maybe he's already working?"

"I don't know," Oikawa said, again, looking out the window. Snow is falling and he sighed. "I think we could've been great friends."

"Maybe," His mother echoed, before sighing and closing her book. Oikawa closed his eyes.

"Maybe."

 

* * *

 

 

[ _Tokyo, Japan_ ]

**1917**

 

He was a five years old, running around in their garden when he heard his mother and her friends.

“Oh, did you hear about Iwaizumi-san who lives down the street?”

“She was rushed into hospital the other day. She had a miscarriage, poor dear.”

"It was very unfortunate. I heard they've been trying to have a child for years."

“She was expecting a boy, wasn’t she?”

He froze up, feeling a sick, cold emotion crawling up to his throat, breath falling short. He sat down against the house wall, head talked in between his knees. He was crying--sobbing, and he doesn't know why, and it scared him, because he felt like he lost a part of him, and he swallowed a lump in his throat, but nothing feels right, nothing is getting better.

"Ah, Tooru, what's wrong?"

Him mom gathered him up, hugging him, patting down his head. 

"It hurts," was all that he could croak out.

 

* * *

 

 

[ _???, ???_ ]

an error of the universe

**XXXX**

 

Iwaizumi was five when a man approached him. His face was pretty, smooth, eyes bright and familiar and Iwaizumi wanted to touch his hair, suddenly feeling like it's a habit since from long ago.

 

The stranger smiled at him, crouching, his brown hair being tousled by the wind.

"I really love you, Iwa-chan." 

He blinked up to him, before handing him his volleyball, saying "Do you want to play with me?"

The brown-haired man grinned at him.

 

* * *

 

 

"Next time," Oikawa whispered against Iwaizumi's nape, as the Scandinavian sunrise peeks out their window. "next time, I swear I'll keep you."

"But not this timeline," Iwaizumi said, turning around and holding him. "Though I think I'll love you all the same."

 

* * *

 

 

[ _Tokyo, Japan_ ]

**2005**

 

"Here," An eight years old Iwaizumi, bandage on face and red dusting his cheeks, was pushing a sunflower to Oikawa's face.

"For me?" Oikawa said, sniffing, hand gingerly taking the sunflower. He's also eight years old, and they're sitting by the lake; he can't remember  why he was crying in the first place, but here they are, and he's honestly happy that Iwaizumi's there even if he's been sort of mean to him before.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"My mom said that I should give flowers to people that I like if they're sad."

 

Oikawa cried harder. This time, though, he's smiling.

 

* * *

 

[ Ashikaga, Tochigi; _Japan_ ]

homecoming, marked by the sunflower given beside the lake

**2014**

 

Oikawa sighed, feeling content on his lap. Iwaizumi hummed, looking up at the vines, summer breeze cooling them down. They're lucky that they were allowed to at least cooldown and walk around after the practice match from a nearby school in this area.

_It was a windy day, the sky blue and glaring, trails of clouds stretching over._

"Do you know about the legend of the wisteria tree, Iwa-chan?" 

"I may have heard of it once," Iwaizumi murmured, closing his eyes. The comfortable and familiar presence of Oikawa, along with the soothing atmosphere brought by the park made him feel drowsy.

"They said that it's planted by a beautiful shinto priest and his lover," Oikawa continued, staring at the vines. "they made a promise. His lover went away. I think he never came back."

There was silence, and Oikawa held Iwaizumi's hand.

"If it was you, Iwa-chan, would you promise that you'll come back?"

Iwaizumi tightened his hold on Oikawa, and leaned down to kiss him.

It was brief, fleeting--but it lingered, and Oikawa swore that he felt that this is what he wanted, and what he'll always want, no matter what happens, no matter who he is, no matter what he is.

Iwaizumi looked into his eyes and smiled.

His kiss tasted of promises and reassurance; of long life and luck. 

 

"Even if I can't come back to you, I'll always find a way to. "

 

 

 

 

We were not lovers, we were love.

 **Jeanette Winterson** , " _Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?"_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea what i wanted to happen :') but here's my Everything Entry for Iwaoi week!! I didn't touch post-graduation because I have something special for that prompt, but this one touched almost everything in it, and I am late as hell, ahah. anyway, hope everyone had a good Iwaoi week!
> 
> (also, i totally made up that wisteria tree legend. gomen)


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